


Wedding Wishes

by Pixiestick_cc



Series: A light that never goes out [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Deathly Hallows AU, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2018-10-10 12:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10437414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixiestick_cc/pseuds/Pixiestick_cc
Summary: When Harry is forced to leave Luna behind, a wedding is able to bring them back together one last time.





	1. Hope

**Author's Note:**

> A retelling of Bill and Fleur's wedding from Luna and Harry's POV. Set in the 'Blame it on the Nargles' universe. 
> 
> Thanks to PullTogether for the beta reading.

Harry was alone by the Great Lake, sitting under a tree and mentally compiling a list of all the things he loved about Luna. It was a distraction. A red herring to trick himself into thinking he wasn’t about to do something painful. Something he’d been putting off for days now.

Of all the tragic turns Harry had confronted in his life, this one felt especially harsh, because he was doing it willingly. No one was sneaking his name into a magical goblet placing him in a tournament full of dangerous tasks. No one was distorting his mind into perceiving events falsely so he would rush into a trap. And no one was murdering his mentor, forcing Harry on a journey to find Horcruxes alone.

This time it was completely on him. His choice. He was letting go of something that was one of the few bright spots in his life. Snuffing it out all on his own. It was for the greater good, Harry had reasoned at one point after almost losing his nerve to follow through. A moment later he decided the sound of that didn’t fit with who he was and then revised his excuse as being a necessity to keep her safe.

To keep Luna from harm.

Luna, with those dreamy eyes that almost always appeared to know something half a second before he did, speaking to him when words weren’t enough. Harry had gazed into her eyes many times for comfort, for love, for hope. He would miss the ease just one glance from Luna could give him.

Harry would also miss her smiles. The way the corners of Luna’s mouth seemed permanently curved ever so slightly upward, giving off the appearance of impishness. It was an outward sign of her ability to face life optimistically- an ideal Harry admittedly struggled with- and oftentimes he looked to Luna as his guide back towards positive thinking. But it was her all-out smiles that he deeply treasured. A truly brilliant expression Harry was fortunate enough to not only have witnessed, but also kissed on many occasions, usually while pushing his hands through her long blond waves that were most often halfway tied up with some odd accessory, like her wand.

His fingers would no longer be able to thread through those strands or reach down and feel the warmth of her hand in his. The touch that reassured him he was real. That she was real. And that they were more than their tragedies.

Harry pulled at a tuft of grass, ripping the blades up in frustration. His list was not helping. Quite the opposite actually. He couldn’t comfort himself with thoughts of what he was letting go of. It wasn’t the distraction Harry had hoped for, but rather a reminder of his grim road ahead and the dismantling of happiness he was about to set into motion.

All to keep her safe.

Harry tossed the blades of grass and watched a breeze carry them away before noticing the half-moon indentations his nails had made in the palm of his hand.

“You know my mum used to tell me those were good luck.”

Harry jerked his head upward and saw those blue-grey eyes he’d just been reflecting on, staring down at him.

“She said it meant you were concentrating on a problem hard enough that the answer to whatever was troubling you would eventually tickle your brain.” Luna lowered herself next to Harry. She took his hand and brushed her fingertips against the imprints his nails had left behind. “But her theory was meant to comfort a younger me and my trivial problems. I don’t think it holds up well in the face of the life of Harry Potter. So maybe talking it over with me will be a better solution to whatever it is that’s troubling you.”

This consoling nature of Luna was familiar, and any other time Harry would’ve fallen comfortably into their usual roles. But things were different now. There was no solace in what he was about to tell Luna and he doubted she could find a way to spin it in her usual whimsical rose-colored fashion. His stomach knotted painfully at the thought of ripping the seams of their connection and possibly damaging her hopeful disposition. Still, it was better than the alternative of putting her life at risk.

Harry cleared his throat and attempted to say what he needed to, but the words were like paste in his mouth, clamping it shut. So instead, he enveloped his hand around Luna’s and tried something simple to start with. Just her name. Yet even that was too much and feeling a great overwhelming disappointment in himself for failing to keep a few stray tears from falling from his eyes, Harry lowered his face in shame.

_What right do I have to feel sorry for myself when I’m the one causing the pain?_

Meanwhile, Luna eased in beside Harry and leaned her head against his shoulder. With their hands still linked, her thumb moved along his knuckles in a comforting motion, waiting until he was ready to talk. With Luna there was no pressure for Harry to explain himself. Her patience was endless and she would wait, because in her view, sometimes it was better to keep quiet. Answers to problems could be found not only in words, but in the stillness of the world around them. The fact she was able to see the world as still at all was a credit to who she was. From Harry’s viewpoint, life always seemed to be moving in an increasingly faster chaotic direction.

“Luna,” he managed to say after a few minutes of quiet while they both stared out at the lake.

“Hmmm?” She lifted her head to look at him, but Harry still stared forward.

Audibly swallowing, he attempted to speak again. “I can’t- we can’t …” but the rest of his sentence failed to form. Knowing that once the words were out of his mouth he wouldn’t be able to take them back, was enough to strangle his bravery. Harry wanted just one more minute living in a world where they were still together.

Unfortunately that moment was cut short when Luna was able to piece together what he’d been inept at finishing. “We can’t be involved anymore?”

It was unnecessary for Harry to ask how she was able to figure it out. The connection between them sometimes did that, communicating to her what he couldn’t articulate.

When Harry didn’t answer, Luna assumed she was right. “I had a feeling this was the conclusion you would come to after what happened.” It went without saying, what happened was the shock of Dumbledore's death.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, finally turning to look at her again, ashamed of the tears sliding down his face. “But I can’t risk your life. I can’t put you in danger. They would use you against me and I won’t let that happen.”

In the countless hours Harry had run through this scenario in his head, he’d always anticipated Luna expressing some form of sadness over their break-up, but strangely her voice maintained its usual dreamy cadence when she replied, “You know, Harry, we’ve been dating for nearly half a year and a large portion of the wizarding world already knows about us. Are you under the impression that they will simply forget our past? We do tend to get a few articles written about us in the _Prophet_ every month, and the one from Valentine's Day, with the photograph of us kissing in Hogsmeade, was rather intrusive.” Luna smiled briefly and he assumed she was recalling their kiss and not the publication of it. Neither of them had been pleased when one of their more intimate moments was put in the paper for all to see. Ron had been especially merciless with his teasing.

“I don’t think they’ll forget, but they might not care anymore if we’re not together,” Harry explained.

“Oh I see. Without you, I’m not very important.” There was no bitterness in her observation. Still, Harry felt the need to defend her.

“Of course you’re very important all on your own. Especially to me and every single person you’ve ever given that crazy, observant, and most times, correct advice. Believe me, you are appreciated.” Luna smiled demurely at his affirmation of her importance and it broke Harry’s heart to say what he did next. “And that’s what I’m getting at, Luna. You _are_ so important to me and I need to make sure that everyone thinks you're not. Considering what happened to my parents, Sirius, and now Dumbledore, it’s the right thing to do. Their connection to me got them killed and I won’t let that happen again. Not to you!” Harry emphasized his last few words to the point where he sounded pleading, and when he rose up on his knees in desperation, Luna rested a hand on Harry’s shoulder, slowly guiding him back down onto the grass.

She then began to hum softly as her hand traveled up his shoulder to cup the side of his face. The warmth of her skin was comforting and Harry leaned into her palm. “Though I may not be as famous if you do leave me behind, Harry, I doubt that I’ll be any safer with us no longer connected. Especially since my father is an outspoken supporter of you.” Luna closed her eyes and sighed, her brow furrowing slightly. The sadness Harry had anticipated was now making an appearance, but only for a moment, before she opened her eyes again, seeming to be the same Luna he’d come to know and love. “But if this is what you think we must do,” she continued, with only a hint of regret in her voice, “I can hardly tell you no and stay your girlfriend when you don’t want me to be. I am told that is not how a relationship works. Both sides must be in agreement about dating or else problems might arise.”

Her last line was delivered as a joke. Luna’s glow had lightened to the tinge that Harry recognized as humor. “How can you be so calm that you’re able to find a way to laugh at this awful situation?” he asked.

Luna’s thumb traced the skin near his eyes, removing the lingering wetness of his fallen tears. “Well, you have to be strong for everyone. I feel it’s only fitting that I at least be strong enough for you. The world is not on my shoulders the way it is on yours. A broken heart is not much in comparison don’t you think? Besides, it is quite common to lose your first love ... for a little while at least. And I am rather hopeful that our story isn’t over. This is only a delay. We’ll win against our enemies and I’ll see you on the other side of this predicament.”

“You’re always so hopeful," Harry said, feeling relief that he hadn't broken her most important quality. 

“Is there any other way to be?” Luna asked, and even though her question was rhetorical, he answered anyway.

“For you? I don’t think so, and it’s one of the reasons why I love you.”

Luna smiled at the same moment her creased brow returned. “I love you too,” she replied. Tears began to fill her eyes, and Harry pressed his mouth against hers for one last kiss.

As their lips moved in a tender rhythm, Harry was able to find a fragment of optimism buried deep within his heart and his list from earlier resurfaced. Of all the things he loved about Luna, _this_ , her bright disposition, was what he would miss the most. It was the light that gave him hope that they would be together again, and what he would use to get through every day until his journey into darkness was over.


	2. Brown Paint

_Painting your friends onto bedroom walls requires several tubes of red paint._

That was the conclusion Luna came to after spending the first two months of summer using paintbrushes to recreate her friends. But she acknowledged the situation might be different for someone else. Not everyone had to use excessive red paint to bring the ginger haired siblings Ron and Ginny Weasley to life. Along with Hermione Granger, who had shades of auburn mixed in with her light brown waves. Neville’s hair hadn’t required any red. Neither did Harry’s. But Luna hadn’t mustered the courage to paint him yet. She chose to focus on the other four first, the last of which she had just completed after dotting a final freckle on Ron’s face, saying, “There you go. You look exceptionally like yourself. Which is to say you look handsome and brave.”

Once a painting was finished, Luna spoke words of encouragement to the portrait, feeling it breathed life into her artwork. She was fully aware that most would consider this loony, but as she lived alone with her father, Luna didn’t concern herself with what he thought. She already knew. To him his daughter was always perfectly sane. And therefore, talking to paintings was too.

After climbing down the ladder she’d been using to reach Ron’s face, Luna placed her paint palette alongside the various tubes of vibrant colors, and made a mental note to pick up some more red. Although, she wouldn’t need it for Harry. He had dark brown hair. A quick glance back at her paints revealed she would need more of that too.

The idea of painting her friends had struck not long after Luna returned home from Hogwarts. She wanted to capture the feeling of happiness having friends gave her and also find a distraction from the ache inside her chest. That bothersome thing always took hold whenever she was idle, and the best way to escape its torment was to stay busy. Which meant that when Luna wasn’t helping her father with the _Quibbler_ , she was in her room painting … lots of red hair.

But now that she was done with Ron, the only friend left to paint was Harry. “I can put that off for a few more days. Until I have a chance to buy more brown, that is.” Luna sighed, placing her palm against the empty space she’d kept for Harry. “Because Harry has untidy brown hair.”

She’d been speaking to herself as a memory flickered in her mind’s eye, yet her father- who always seemed to be lurking nearby nowadays- walked into her room a moment later and asked, “What was that, Luna dear?” as if her words had been meant for him.

Luna shook off the ache that had resurfaced at the thought of painting Harry, and turned to glance at her approaching father. “Oh, nothing important, Daddy. I was only commenting on my art.”

“And what lovely art it is. Of all your friends!” He clasped his hands together in what Luna felt was an exaggerated show of enthusiasm. “I don’t know how you can say it is nothing important. Your art is of the utmost importance.” He sounded patronizing, something Luna disliked, because it reminded her of their recent role reversal.

Ever since her mother’s death, Luna had taken up the responsibility of watching over her father. Mostly this meant attempting to keep his wayward tongue from saying anything too impertinent in front of the wrong person, and reminding him of important things, as he could be quite absent-minded. Yet, ever since Luna and Harry had gone their separate ways, she’d felt like a creature under glass, being constantly monitored for any signs of distress, which inadvertently added another layer to her melancholy. Luna didn’t like that she wore her sadness so plainly on the outside. No matter how hard she tried to mask it, those negative emotions always found a way of showing through sooner or later.

“I don’t think my art is unimportant,” Luna explained after a short pause, where she struggled to keep her heart from bleeding into her response. “Only what I said about needing new paint. It’s a rather unimportant detail that I need more, don’t you think?”

“I don’t agree. Anything to do with your art is important.” He paused and then laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Just as _you_ are important to me.”

Luna was well versed in what would come next. Another round of- _How are you?_ and _Would you like to talk about it?_ with her father. And while she appreciated his concern, the usually honest Luna was exhausted with discussions about Harry. When it came to their ended relationship, everything had already been said. Going over it further only served to remind her of what she had lost and how her hopeful outlook was starting to erode. That was the last thing Luna wanted and so it was better to bury herself in a task than have another chat with her father.

“Was there something you wanted, Daddy?” she asked, moving away from his touch and kneeling down beside her paints, pretending to sort them while bracing herself for her father’s inevitable probing questions.

“As a matter of fact-”

Luna’s shoulders tensed.

“There is an owl downstairs for you.”

“An owl?” Luna asked in surprise, her heart speeding up a tick. “For me?”

“Well, I assume it’s for you because the little thing refuses to give me his letter and I thought maybe you could give it a try.”

Luna didn’t have to be asked twice. In an instant she'd removed her smock and was racing down the stairs to the first floor. But the hope beating inside her heart fizzled when she caught sight of the owl perched on the back of a dining chair.

It was not Hedwig.

But even if the owl was not the one Luna had hoped to see, he was nevertheless familiar and as she slowly approached him, a name came to mind. “Pigwidgeon?” she tentatively asked, reaching a hand under his beak. “Is that who you are?” And then as if to say _yes_ , the tiny owl deposited his envelope into Luna’s palm.

“Pigwidgeon?” her father said from across the room, having finally reached the first floor. “You know this owl?”

“Yes. Well, not personally. But I know his owner.” Luna walked over to a nearby cupboard and retrieved a mason jar filled with dead insects her father kept around for potion making. “Did Ron send you?” she asked the owl, while dropping some of the jar’s contents into her cupped hand. Pigwidgeon responded with a high-pitched squawk. “When you get back, will you tell him I said, hello?” Luna asked and then offered the bugs to Ron’s owl, who snatched up a shriveled beetle from the assortment of insects before flying back out the open window.

“A gold envelope. That’s a lucky color,” her father mentioned as he came to stand beside her. “I wonder what’s inside.”

Luna deposited the uneaten bugs onto the table and gently slid her finger under the envelope’s lip. Inside she found a stiff piece of cardstock the same shade of sparkling gold with a few words written above a moving image of a happy couple. “Oh! There’s to be a wedding for Fleur Delacour and Bill Weasley at his parent’s home next Saturday,” Luna cheerfully announced.

“Are we invited?” her father inquired and Luna gave him a patient yet dubious look.

“Daddy, I think it would be rather rude to send a notice about a wedding and not invite us. Especially when it’s so near our own home.”

“Ah yes, I suppose you’re right.” Her father chuckled and slid the invitation from her grasp. After taking a quick look, his eyebrows rose, signaling an idea had formed. Whether good or bad, Luna never knew. Only that for every good idea he had, three bad ones usually followed. “It would be fun to go out and buy you a new dress for the occasion, don’t you think?” he asked.

Not a bad idea, just one Luna wasn’t interested in. “I don’t need a new dress. All of mine are suitable for a wedding,” Luna said, and briefly thought of the one she had worn to Professor Slughorn's Christmas party the year before.

“You might not _need_ one, but maybe I’d like to give you one. And you can pick up those _unimportant_ paints you need while we’re out.”

The large grin her father was wearing and the haze of excitement surrounding him caused Luna to hesitate. If it made him happy, why shouldn’t she go along with his idea? “Okay,” she relented.

“Okay! We can take a trip to Diagon Alley tomorrow.” Luna’s father clasped her shoulders and gave them a gentle shake to show his enthusiasm, which caused her to drop the envelope.

“That sounds like fun,” Luna said, trying to sound like she meant it. Then reaching down, she went to pick up the envelope, but caught sight of something else instead. Unlike the invitation, it wasn’t gold. Just a simple piece of white parchment that when unfolded, contained familiar handwriting. Luna felt her cheeks warm as memories of love notes passed between classes flooded her mind. This was Harry’s handwriting.

“What do you have there?” her father asked, prompting Luna’s heart to leap into her throat.

“N-nothing important,” she stuttered, while standing upright again and sandwiching Harry’s note in between the few random items already inside her left overall pocket.

“Oh, more paints then?” he teased, but Luna was unable to play along. Too many thoughts were running through her head.

“Excuse me, I uh, have to go water the dirigible plums.”

Her father fixed her with a suspicious stare and said, “But I watered them this morning.”

Luna didn’t reply. She was already out the door and hiding herself amongst the green leaves and orange fruit of the tree she claimed needed watering.

Harry’s note itself wasn’t a revelation, no declaration of love or detailed account of what he’d been up to since leaving Hogwarts. But after having no word from him in what seemed like ages, any small amount of communication transformed into the deepest heartfelt correspondence in Luna’s heart.

_I will be at the wedding. Not as me. Polyjuice potion. I’ll look for you._

Her eyes pricked with tears after going over the words several times. She would get to see Harry again. Maybe not Harry as he was, but still him on the inside. The connection between them that had felt strained as of late would still be there no matter whose face he wore.

“Luna dear, what _are_ you doing out here?”

Luna’s eyes flicked upward to see her father staring down at her. She had been so engrossed with Harry’s message that her excitement had drowned out his footsteps. A moment of uncertainty passed as Luna tried to decide what to do. She didn’t like being dishonest, but neither was she sure what her father should know. Harry’s current path was shrouded in secrecy, and even if she’d been given a small window into it, was her father allowed to look through it as well?

“I don't know …” When Luna let her sentence hang in the air unfinished, her father sighed, a look of weariness passing over his face.

“This is from Harry?” He pointed at the note, and even if her father had spoken a question, his tone indicated a fact.

Luna reluctantly nodded.

“Please,” he said, patting her head and then removing a leaf stuck in her hair, “use good judgment. I trust that you will, but sometimes the heart … it clouds a person’s perspective, and I don’t … I don’t want to see you hurt. Now don’t misunderstand me, we will always be supporters of Harry, but that doesn’t mean you have to put yourself in danger for him.”

A change stole over her father’s demeanor as he spoke- a slight hunch of the shoulders and faraway gaze in his eyes- that told Luna her father wasn’t actually speaking of Harry, but of a different person entirely. The last time he'd fallen into this mood it had lasted a few days, and Luna had resolved never to let him brood that long again. Nor did she want him comparing Harry with her mother. The two relationships were not the same.

“Daddy,” Luna spoke softly, using a lilting tone that had proved useful before in situations like these. “You should dwell on happy thoughts. You look like you have far too many wakspurts inside your head right now.”

This mention of one of his most hated magical pests appeared to shake her father free from his doldrums and he frowned apologetically. “You’re right. Far too many of those pesky menaces around lately. Perhaps I should write a cover story on it. Our nargle edition was a bestseller. This one could be too.”

“That sounds like a good idea. I could help you write it,” Luna suggested as she placed Harry’s note back into her pocket, fully intending to look it over again several times before the wedding. Perhaps she could even use it as inspiration when painting. It was a thought that sprouted legs as she walked back into the house, eventually bringing her to a better solution to their wakspurts problem. “I have an idea. Why don't we go shopping today instead of tomorrow,” Luna said to her father, who raised his brows in surprise.

“So eager for me to buy you a new dress?”

She shook her head. “No, to buy some paints. I suddenly have a strong desire to paint brown hair.”


	3. Friendly Advice

Finding the right person to imitate with polyjuice potion shouldn’t have been one of Harry’s main priorities. Concerning the scope of his strategy- and Harry’s strategy was rather large and complicated at the moment- who he was at Bill and Fleur’s wedding was unimportant. A task that could’ve been relegated to anyone. Go into town, find someone who wasn’t attending the wedding, pluck a hair and be done with it. But as the wedding was going to be Harry’s last chance of seeing Luna before his life took a more complex turn, he had wanted a choice in who got to say goodbye.

And it couldn’t be just anyone.

“He’s too old,” and “No, no, he’s too short,” and finally, “Come on, look at him. He’s balding!” were just a few of his objections to Hermione who’d accompanied him into town under the invisibility cloak.

There were slight indicators that he was starting to frustrate her- a forehead rub, her mouth twisted to the side- but knowing why Harry was taking this task so personally kept Hermione from lecturing him. She was sympathetic. Probably more than Ron would’ve been, which was why Harry had chosen to leave him behind. Plus Mrs. Weasley had insisted Ron stay and help with wedding preparations, something Harry was more than happy to escape from.

“Okay, how about him? He looks younger. Maybe late teens. Early twenties. And more importantly ...” Hermione paused for dramatic effect and Harry rolled his eyes, “a head full of hair.” She was pointing at a man who was leaning casually against the outside wall of a pub. A woman was standing near him and looked none too interested in the conversation he was trying strike up with her.

“He may have hair, but he’s also cross-eyed,” Harry said.

Hermione softly giggled, and the man they’d been casing glanced their way wearing a confused expression. “He is not,” she refuted, lowering her voice. “Although now that I’m looking, his eyes do appear to be a bit too close together.”

“Like they’re trying to kiss,” Harry joked.

Hermione gave his shoulder a slight shove and then they both laughed. This sound caught the attention of the woman standing with the odd-eyed man, which prompted Hermione to ask, “What about her?”

Harry’s eyebrows rose. “A woman? Isn’t that, I dunno, a little unethical?”

“Probably, but you’re making this far too complicated, Harry.” The tone she used was patient, but her frustration was beginning to resurface, a sign their moment of levity was over.

“Well, I’m not sure Luna would be comfortable if I were a woman,” Harry finally answered.

“Why wouldn’t she be? I hardly think Luna has a problem with anyone. It’s what makes her Luna. I could turn you into Buckbeak and she’d be fine with that.”

“This is different,” he insisted.

“Why?”

“It just is.” Harry averted his gaze and in the few seconds of silence that followed, Hermione was able to piece together an answer. He didn’t have to see her look of disapproval to know she was piercing him with it. The expression was one he’d memorized after years of seeing it bestowed upon Ron; now it was Harry who had provoked her signature stare.

“Harry,” she said his name slowly. “You’re not planning on kissing Luna are you?”

He didn’t answer, which was answer enough for her.

“But you can’t. You’re just starting to get over your breakup.”

“And how do you know that?” Harry hissed under his breath. “You’re not me. You don’t know how I feel. No one does.” Regret instantly flooded him over his outburst, especially since he didn’t actually think any of those things. It was more a product of feeling overwhelmed than a response to Hermione, and Harry was quick to apologize. “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean-”

“No, you’re right,” she interrupted.

Harry paused and looked at her askance. “Wait … what? I am?” Hermione wasn’t one to give in easily and it threw him off-balance.

“Yes. Because I don’t actually know how you feel. I can only guess. But ...” she exhaled softly, “are you even sure she would want to kiss you as someone else. Maybe she’s moved on. Luna has every right to, you know.”

Harry didn’t like the idea of this, but couldn’t deny its likelihood. He was the one who’d ended their relationship and cut off communication after leaving Hogwarts. It was completely possible Luna no longer felt the same, and it was a punch to the gut finally admitting this to himself. “I know,” he replied, watching as Hermione’s expression turned from serious to sympathetic.

“Look, Harry, I support you. I do. But as a friend I’m always going to be looking out for your best interest. And this is not in either of your best interests.”

Harry kept quiet as he absently rubbed his scar, not wanting to admit out loud that she was right. Hermione gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze and eventually fixed her gaze back on the couple, who were actually no longer one, as the woman had slapped the cross-eyed man, leaving him grumbling with a sore cheek. It took a few more of Hermione’s suggestions before Harry settled on a light-haired boy about his age with brown eyes and a crooked nose. Hermione mentioned how he somewhat resembled a younger, blonder version of Snape, and Harry, trying to make light of the seriousness of their previous conversation, replied, “Well, if you were trying to get Luna not to kiss me, then that would be the way to go.”

Back at the Burrow, Harry sent the Lovegoods an invitation to Bill and Fleur’s wedding and when their owl came back the next day with a reply, he immediately snuck off to the side of the Weasley’s chicken coop for privacy. The disappointment he felt at seeing there wasn’t anything extra from Luna in the note cut deeper than Harry wanted to admit. He had hoped his cryptic message would be met with one of her own, but saw only the big loopy handwriting of Xenophilius stating they would love to come to the wedding and gift Bill and Fleur a year’s subscription to the _Quibbler_. Harry snorted and imagined the look Luna often made whenever mentioning her father’s habit of constantly pushing the _Quibbler_ onto others, as if to say- _What am I going to do with him?_

But the comfort this memory brought faded the longer Harry stared at Xenophilius’s reply. Maybe Luna hadn’t even cared about his message. It was a dreary thought that revived Hermione’s argument from their trip into town. What if Luna _had_ moved on and he was holding onto foolish hope that she would wait for him? Which, deep down, Harry knew was selfish. She was only sixteen and had a whole life to live that didn’t involve hanging onto an old boyfriend with a long list of enemies. The name Harry Potter came along with an excessive amount of baggage and it was a surprise Luna had even wanted to be with him in the first place.

When Harry had ended their relationship, he’d been certain it was the right thing to do. But loneliness had crept in over time, convincing him of some fantasy that maybe she still wanted him. He should’ve been focusing on the plan ahead, instead of reminiscing about the past, and it only served to hurt him deeper than before.

Hope could inspire, but it also could delude.

“If you’re trying to hide, it’s not gonna work. Mum found me here yesterday.”

Harry jerked his head up to see Ron approaching.

“She’s got eyes in the back of her head. And probably a few other places. This whole wedding has made a right nutter outta her.”

In the distance, Harry could hear Mrs. Wesley calling for her youngest son, and Ron groaned, glancing over his shoulder. “See what I mean. Eyeballs everywhere.”

Harry held up the letter for Ron. “Better give this to her then. If Luna and her dad show up and she never got their RSVP, I don’t want it coming back on me.”

Ron twisted his neck to face Harry again. “So they’re gonna be there?” he asked, his eyes growing wide.

“Yeah,” Harry answered, not matching Ron’s enthusiasm.

“And?”

“And nothing.” Harry handed over the letter to Ron and walked away, but didn’t get far before his friend jogged up beside him.

“Aaaand … aren’t you happy about that?”

Harry sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know how I feel. I keep thinking she doesn’t care about me anymore and it’s driving me mad. Maybe inviting them was a bad idea.”

Ron was quiet for a moment. “Well, if I were you, I’d be happy,” he finally said.

“And why’s that?”

“Because, you know, just seeing that she’s alright should be enough for now. Don’t think too much about anything else. You’ve got loads on your mind anyway. Just enjoy the little bits of happiness when you get them.”

Mrs. Weasley's voice was growing steadily louder calling for Ron, then she transitioned to Harry’s name.

“You know, like me right now. I’m gonna go enjoy a little bit of my own happiness by hiding from my mum. Think I’ll spend some quality time with the ghoul up in the attic. Go over a few points with him of what it’s like to be me,” Ron grinned slyly, before running into the house, and Harry laughed.

Maybe Ron was more sympathetic about his relationship with Luna than he thought.

“Oh Harry, dear, there you are,” Mrs. Weasley said a few seconds later, when she finally caught up with him. Her breathing sounded labored, making Harry wonder just how long she’d been searching for her missing son. “You haven’t seen Ron, have you?” she asked.

“No, sorry, I haven’t,” Harry lied, knowing full well that whatever task she wanted Ron to do would now be assigned to him. But it didn’t matter. The little bit of hope he had inspired in Harry was worth its weight in a few wedding chores.


	4. Sunflowers

Frills of yellow and orange wrapped around Luna’s body forming a sleeveless, knee length dress that felt far too plain for her liking. She had let her father purchase it because he’d shown interest in the bright colors, exclaiming, “It shines like the sun and burns like fire.” That declaration had then unfolded into a comparison of Luna and the dress, which verged on becoming an ode about how his daughter was growing up much too fast. The whole scene had compelled Luna to let him buy the dress. Partly to make her father happy, but also to avoid his penchant for going on about how much she looked like her mother, which could sometimes wind his memory backwards to when she was alive. And as comforting as he found his reminiscing to be, it always settled into a somber mood before long.

Now Luna stood in front of the floor length mirror in her room, staring at her reflection and feeling somewhat dull. This wasn’t what she pictured herself wearing to the wedding. Even the nargle perched atop the mirror looked unimpressed. Walking over to her bed, Luna picked up the butterbeer cork necklace she had removed while changing, and placed it back around her neck. Then with a flip of her hand, she shooed the nargle away and pondered what to do next. Her options were limited. Magic outside of school was forbidden for someone her age, and Luna only had a rudimentary idea of how to sew as muggles did. Fixing the hems of robes was the extent of that knowledge. It was possible to ask her father for help using his magic, but she thought doing so might lead to conversations about the dress again.

_And other things._

Luna let out a soft sigh, and continued to stare into the mirror as her mind worked, shifting ideas around until she noticed the light slowly dimming in the room. It was enough of a distraction to bring her attention to the window and the world outside where the sun was sinking lower in the sky. Another day was ending.

_Which means I’m one day closer to seeing Harry._

Scanning the landscape around her home, Luna’s gaze settled on her father standing near their garden where magical and non-magical plants grew side by side. He was watering them using his wand, but paused to wave at Luna. She returned the gesture with a smile and when her father went back to his task, a group of flowers caught her attention. Flowers that brought to mind an image of her dress transformed.

“A sunny dress deserves a sunny flower, wouldn’t you say?” she asked, turning to the nargel who had come back to perch on the mirror. Luna couldn’t seem to get rid of him. The green creature had been persistent company for a few days now, long enough that Luna had labeled him Barnaby. Talking to him was a new occurrence, but somehow it felt right in that moment, and she imagined Barnaby concurring to her question with a nod. “Good,” she said. “Then it's settled. I’ll make sure this dress becomes an extension of me and not Daddy’s idea of who I should be. Harry always did like it when I wore flowers.”

After the mention of Harry, Barnaby flew over to lounge on the ladder Luna used for painting. She didn’t think nargles could understand human language, but sometimes wondered if her new acquaintance was special and could sense things. Or perhaps it just gave her comfort to think so. A nargle that wasn’t completely obnoxious was a worthwhile story all on its own.

Luna came to stand near the unfinished painting of Harry. His torso and limbs were clothed in the outfit he’d worn the last time they were together- saying goodbye at _King’s Cross_ \- but his head was still troubling her. Currently he had none. A headless Harry. Her newly purchased brown paint had barely been touched. But she envisioned that not being a problem after the wedding ... or so she hoped. His presence- even while wearing the mask of polyjuice potion- would be enough to inspire Luna to come back and finish the painting.

But for now, she had another project to work on, and after changing back into her plain clothes Luna skipped down the spiral staircase, and made her way outside into the garden where some flowers were waiting for her.

 

* * *

 

The day of the wedding, Luna was on fire. Her whole body was alive and humming a sweet tune that spoke of things to come. Unfortunately, this array of swirling emotions was causing her hands to shake, and she was finding it difficult to pull on her dress without disturbing its new additions of sunflowers. But after a few false starts, Luna managed to dress herself with only a few yellow petals having to be sacrificed. She glanced down at them littering the floor, and let out a gasp of surprise when Barnaby quickly scooped some up. “You certainly are a greedy fellow. Well, at least they won’t go to waste,” Luna commented as she eyed her nargle friend tasting his new treat. And then from below her name was called. “I’m almost ready, Daddy,” she replied, flipping her hair back and placing a homemade sunflower crown over her blonde tresses. Luna smiled into the mirror, admiring the young woman who stared back. “And so what do you think?” she asked Barnaby, who continued chomping on the petals, apathetic to her question. Luna imagined him approving anyway. “Why thank you, Barnaby,” she said, curtseying before heading downstairs.

She found her father near the front entrance, his eyes glistening with a look that told her to expect a long speech of parental adoration. “Oh, Luna …” he began, but she was quick to speak over him, in an attempt to circumvent any long-winded praise.

“Come, Daddy. I’m afraid we’re running a little late. Which is my fault. I’m sorry for taking so long.”

“No need to apologize,” he replied, linking arms with her. “A masterpiece takes time. And to think you did all that to your dress without magic. My only daughter, so talented.” He gave her hand a little pat and beamed down with pride.

“Oh, it’s not so much,” Luna demurred, as she led them outside and walked beyond the front gate to the spot where they would disapparate. “But thank you.”

“You deserve every bit of praise you receive, and must know I hold you in the highest esteem. Your creativity reminds me so much of your mother,” he said, while blinking rapidly to hold back tears. Luna tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. Thankfully her father didn’t notice. “Now, hold tight. I don’t want any of those sunflowers to become ruined. You put so much effort into this dress. Everyone deserves a chance to see how talented my Luna is.” And with that, he grasped her other arms and they were transported into a void that pushed and pulled and made the fire she already felt burn with an intensity that was over with before she’d even blinked twice. It was Luna’s first time traveling this way and there was a rush that stayed with her even after she’d begun walking towards the large gold tent set up on the Weasley’s property.

But then the rush suddenly coiled together with the fire from earlier, forming a new sensation and her heart raced. Near the opening of the tent Ron, Fred, and George stood acting as ushers, and while they were a pleasant sight to see, their presence was not the reason for her accelerated pulse. It was the young man off to the side, someone she didn’t know, yet actually knew quite well. He may have looked different, but his aura spoke volumes. Emotions she recognized were dancing around him, revealing his anticipation. They were reminiscent of those hazy shades of excitement he displayed right before every kiss they shared, and the corners of Luna’s mouth pulled up to form a slight smile. And it was at that moment, Luna felt their connection waking up after a long summer nap. The wilted flower inside her chest, that ache Harry had unknowingly created when he said goodbye, bloomed into something wonderful. Something she’d been lacking lately.

_Hope._

Pulling in a breath, Luna sought to catch Harry’s eye as she and her father approached the tent, not sure if she was allowed to acknowledge this polyjuice version of him or not.

_Please, look at me._

Light brown eyes with gold flecks, flicked her way, widened, and the aloof boy turned ridgid. His emotions shifted. Anticipation transformed into nervousness and alarm. Luna wasn’t quite sure how to interpret it. Was she doing this wrong? Should she have ignored him?

“Blimey, that’s uh, a lot of sunflowers!”

As difficult as it was, Luna pulled her gaze away from Harry and turned to look at the person speaking to her. “Oh hello, Ron. I see you’ve noticed my dress.”

“Is there a dress in there? Thought you just rolled in a flower bed,” he teased.

“Well, I do suppose I did some rolling around in the garden trying to cut all these down with my body,” Luna replied and could see that behind Ron’s gaze he was trying to guess if her words had been a joke or not. She decided to help him along with a laugh. Ron eventually joined in, although he sounded a little unsure.

“Don’t mind him,” George interjected. “Dropped on his head as a baby. He’s a little slow.” He then tapped his finger to the side of his head, which brought Luna’s attention to his ear, or to be more precise, lack of one. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask how he’d been injured, but her father spoke up first.

“My Luna does have a good sense of humor, doesn’t she?”

“Well, Mr. Lovegood, I’ll tell you this, as long as she’s making Ron feel uncomfortable, George and I consider her one of us,” Fred added and winked at Luna. She should’ve been more polite and continued the conversation, but was finding it difficult to keep her curiosity contained. A muted smile was all she could offer as she stared over Fred’s shoulder, searching for Harry. Sadly, it seemed that during the course of her short interactions with the Weasleys, Harry had gone missing. Luna let slip an audible gasp.

“What is it?” her father asked, his voice carrying a hint of worry.

Yellow flower petals fluttered to the ground as Luna shook her head. “Oh, it’s nothing, really. Just apparating here. With it being my first time, I feel a little out of sorts.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but her newfound ability to easily manipulate the truth didn’t sit well with Luna.

“Yes, well, I’ll just uh, take you to your seats then,” Ron said. “Right this way.” He gestured forward and entered the tent.

“See ya, Luna,” Fred and George said in unison and Luna waved goodbye. “Save me a dance,” one of them shouted after her.

Inside the tent, Ron led them down a long aisle between two sections of chairs, and presumably sat them on the groom’s side, an assumption that was proven correct when Luna saw Hermione sitting next to Ginny a few rows up. Luna tried to catch their attention, but the two were discussing something. Maybe she would be able to reconnect with them at the reception. Or maybe not. Luna was having a difficult time staying positive with Harry having gone missing. His note did say he would come looking for her, but he had seen her and done nothing.

As her anxiety over Harry grew, Luna’s fingers sought out a lock of her hair and threaded through the strands, twisting and pulling it into knots of nervous agitation. It was a coping mechanism she’d picked up after her mother’s death, and had once been so bad that her father was forced to spend each night undoing her many tangles using magic. If he had been paying attention, Luna’s father would’ve stopped his daughter’s downward spiral into old habits, but since he was currently discussing the healing powers of gnome saliva with a warlock sitting next to him, Luna had to lean on her own inner-strength to fight off the vice.

Balling her hands into fists, Luna placed them in her lap and let the world turn dark behind her eyelids, easing her mind into pleasant thoughts to help quell her anxiety. It worked, and Luna was having an especially good memory of the time she’d encountered a blibbering humdinger near her home, when a sudden warm touch ran along her wrist. She kept her lids tightly closed as the fingers moved upward to relax her clenched fist. Had she not recognized the sensation, Luna would’ve wondered why someone was being so forward with her. But since the skin to skin contact was instantly familiar, Luna melted into the touch, and it provoked her mind to create an image of a person. Someone whose dark brown hair was always messy and who wore glasses with round lenses. She knew that when her eyes opened it wouldn’t be the same as what she saw in her head. But that didn’t matter. He would still be Harry.

Luna's eyes flutter open. Everything was blurry for a moment, but soon enough her vision settled on the golden stare of a young blonde man. “A good friend of mine once told me ...” he said, nervously brushing the half-moon indentations her nails had left in her palm, “that these were good luck.”

Luna’s heart beat like the wings of a hummingblark. “Oh, I do believe this friend of yours is very wise, because right now I am feeling rather lucky.”


	5. Nargle Friend

The warnings of Hermione and the sentiments of Ron ran through Harry’s head in the days leading up to the wedding. Hermione had been forceful; Ron more hopeful. But both basically told him the same thing. Use your time wisely, don’t fall into the trappings of love, and just be happy to see Luna.

Their advice convinced Harry to conduct himself as he had before that first kiss under the mistletoe. He’d view Luna as the good friend she’d been back during his fifth year, and not the girlfriend she’d eventually become. Yet even with this plan, Harry still worried. Worried that she held their breakup against him. Worried that she might not actually care and be indifferent. Or worse, not show up at all.

Harry worried so much, that on the day of the wedding he was scolded by an elderly woman who’d complained about him making the other guests nervous with his persistent pacing. “Don’t worry. That’s just Aunt Muriel. She hates everyone,” Ron explained.

Aunt Muriel’s embarrassing reprimand caused Harry to demote himself from wedding usher. He had hoped to take Luna to her seat. Now he was just brooding off to the side. “Aye, Cousin Lou, you can’t get out of your wedding duties that easily,” Fred said.

“Yeah, if everyone quit their job after Aunt Muriel complained about them, half of England would be unemployed,” George added.

Harry ignored them and shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. _Or Cousin Lou’s suit pants_. That was currently his name. Some random made up cousin of the Weasleys, who strangely had not inherited their ginger genes.

Thankfully, a group of Fleur’s veela relatives walked by and distracted the twins, saving Harry from further taunting. He didn’t feel up for comradery; he just wanted to sulk. And that’s exactly what Harry did; keeping his eyes glued to the same patch of grass surrounding his feet while oscillating from anticipation to anxiety. It wasn’t until a small creature flew onto his shoe that Harry was forced to pull his mind away from imagining every possible scenario pertaining to Luna. With a shake of his foot, he attempted to force the green thing to leave. “Bugger off,” he muttered, but it clung tightly. After a few more failed attempts, Harry reached down to physically remove it, but held back once he got a better look at what exactly was obsessed with his shoe. This wasn’t just any magical creature taking up space in the Weasley’s backyard. This was something he hadn’t seen in a while.

A nargle.

After their breakup, the magic Harry and Luna shared had dwindled down into almost nothing. The extra aspects of her magic only stayed strong with him while their love was nurtured. Without Luna, it was still there off in the periphery, just greatly subdued. He had spotted nargles less and less over time, until his butterbeer cork necklace was no longer needed to keep them away. But now there was a nargle on his foot refusing to let go.

_Which means..._

He felt the sensation all at once. A shock to his system. A connection telling him to look up. Harry straightened himself, his stomach tying itself into a pretzel as he prepared to face who he thought was standing near the tent’s entrance. But it wasn’t until- _please, look at me-_ came to him like it was echoing down a long tunnel, that he finally gained the courage to seek out Luna. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat and met her gaze. Right away he saw that she recognized him. Her radiating emotions were bright and not like the soft hazes he’d grown accustomed to seeing from everyone else. Even when Hermione was at her most frustrated, her aura was never as intense as Luna when she was in love. Which meant ... she was still in love with him.

Harry felt his resolve crumbling. He didn’t even try to keep the wall he’d built between himself and Luna from being torn down. After seeing her bright display of colors, it was like none of that mattered anymore. Harry couldn’t possibly treat her as the friend she’d once been. He didn’t see her that way, and in his heart knew he'd be unable to fake it.

Without thinking too much about where he was off to, Harry walked away in a hurry. Maybe he’d hide behind the chicken coop. He was panicking and it was about the stupidest reaction he’d ever had to a situation. The boy who lived couldn’t find his footing enough to greet his ex-girlfriend. But then he stopped after feeling a sensation on his leg, and stared down to see the nargle was now cleaving to his shin, its inky black eyes boring into him. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said. A wedding guest walking past gave him a peculiar look, forcing Harry to lower his voice so others wouldn’t think he was having a conversation with his shoe. “Okay, fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll go back.” The nargle seemed to approve and flew up to Harry’s shoulder. The thought of retrieving his cork necklace came to him as he shot the creature a sidelong glance. But with a shrug, the idea was tossed aside, and surprisingly Harry didn’t flick the nargle off his shoulder either. Nargles were nuisances, but this one seemed something like a good omen. Maybe he’d keep it around. “Don’t bite, alright.” The nargle looked back at him noncommittally.

When Harry returned to the tent entrance, Ron was just coming back outside. “There you are,” he said after seeing Harry. “Where’d you go? Thought you wanted to take Luna to her seat.”

“Had a moment of panic. But I’m fine now.”

George patted Harry on the back. “Don’t worry, Harry. You’ll be just fine,” he said, his voice lacking its usual sarcasm.

“Well, she’s right through there. Just, you know, follow the trail of sunflowers.” Ron chuckled, while shaking a few loose petals from his sleeve. “Don’t know how that dress will last the night. But I admit, that is a very Luna thing to do. Covering every inch of herself in sunflowers.”

“Yeah, it is,” Harry agreed with a smile, remembering her oftentimes strange outfit choices. All of which he found amusing, yet also endearing.

After a quick straightening of his tie and a pat on the back from Fred, Harry walked through the tent’s entrance. Along the way he lost the nargle, who left his shoulder and went to indulge in the sunflower petals marking the path, and oddly, the absence made Harry more nervous. His good omen was being a downright deserter. But maybe it was aware Harry didn’t need that assurance anymore, because when he finally saw Luna a few steps later, all feelings of nervousness left his body. Their connection flowing through him once again soothed his anxiety, and it was then that he made his decision to ignore the warnings of Hermione. The evening would play out naturally. Luna wouldn’t be treated as someone he didn’t love, because doing so was unimaginable.

The seat to Luna’s left was empty and Harry slid in beside her, noticing as he did that her eyes were tightly shut and her hands balled into fists. She appeared anxious, much like he’d been, and to ease this, Harry ran his fingers up one of her clenched hands, relaxing it into his. After a few seconds, he went from holding to cradling when his eyes caught sight of the indentations her nails had left in her palm. He was reminded of the story Luna told him that day by the Great Lake, and when she opened her eyes, he repeated that same advice she’d once given him. Her responding glow told Harry all he needed to know. It was as if nothing had changed. For all that was different, in that moment they could’ve been that same couple standing under the mistletoe again. Harry awkwardly nervous. Luna eccentrically sweet. Two very different puzzle pieces fitting together and forming something greater.

But then Luna hastily removed her hand and began speaking in a stilted cadence. “Thank you for reading my palm, young man. You seem nice and I know you are correct when you say I will live a long life.”

“Ohh palmistry!” Luna’s father suddenly said, and that’s when Harry understood why she’d jumped into a lie. Xenophilius had noticed them holding hands. At this point Harry tried not to laugh, because all he could think of was how awful he’d been at palmistry back at Hogwarts. “It is a dying form of magic,” Luna’s father lamented. “Good to see there are those still practicing it outside of school.” He held out his hand towards Harry. “Not to be impertinent, but would you mind?”

“Uh, s-sure,” he replied, hoping Xenophilius wasn’t good at palmistry, because whichever way Harry tried to spin his fortune, it most likely wouldn’t be rooted in truth. After taking the hand extended before him, Harry did his best to channel Professor Trelawny, but with one main deviation. Unlike his former Divination teacher, he would offer a hopeful prediction, something Luna’s father would be happy to hear.

The news that he would soon encounter a strange creature that would lead him to good fortune had the effect Harry intended, and prompted Xenophilius to say, “Why that’s wonderful. Maybe it will be a blibbering humdinger. They are good luck after all. Remember when we saw one outside our home, Luna? You were so happy to see it.” His daughter nodded, and then Xenophilius offered his hand again, an action that momentarily confused Harry. Did he want another false prediction? “Xenophilius Lovegood,” he said. “And this is my daughter Luna. But I think you two have already met.”

Harry’s eyes flicked momentarily in Luna’s direction, before he took her father’s hand and shook it. “Louis Weasley.”

“Ah, so you are related to the Weasleys.”

“Distant cousin once removed,” Harry said, reciting the line he’d been told to parrot if anyone got too inquisitive.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Louis. Have you by any chance heard of the _Quibbler_?”

“Daddy, what did I tell you about bringing up business before the wedding?” Luna softly chided. “It’s bad luck for the bride and groom.”

“Ahh yes, you are quite right,” Xenophilius replied, patting Luna’s hand. “Forgive me, Louis, I sometimes get a little bit too enthusiastic about my work. Perhaps we can talk later. At the reception?”

“I’d like that,” Harry replied, knowing full well he did not actually like that and would try his best to avoid being pulled into a conversation about the _Quibbler_.

“Truthfully, it’s not bad luck to discuss business before a wedding,” Luna confided in Harry after her father had moved onto a conversation with an old acquaintance she’d pointed out a few rows ahead. “I told him I heard that from a reliable source who wished to remain anonymous. I was trying to keep him from embarrassing himself today.”

Harry raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. “Really? But I thought honesty was the Lovegood way.”

Luna shrugged with a twinkle in her eye. “It’s rather unfortunate, but I think being untruthful once in a while might have to be a necessity during these worrisome times, wouldn’t you agree, _Louis Weasley?”_ She stressed his fake name and after a pause, lowered her voice. “I recognized you outside and worried you might not say hello.”

Harry enveloped one of her hands in both of his. “I’m sorry. I panicked after seeing…” He hesitated, unsure if it was the right time to mention the love he saw radiating from her.

“What did you see?” Luna asked.

“A nargle.” It wasn’t a lie. He _had_ seen one.

“A nargle?”

“Yes, but it flew away to eat some sunflowers petals that fell from your dress.”

Luna’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Barnaby. That little troublemaker.”

“Barnaby?”

“My nargle friend,” Luna explained. “I’m sure that is who you saw. He does love sunflowers. And tagging along to weddings, I suppose.”

“Wait. Did you just say, _your nargle friend_?” Harry had to hold back a snort. “Just how much has changed since I last saw you? I thought we weren’t supposed to like nargles, with the upcoming plague your dad’s been warning about for nearly a year.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps Barnaby is going his own way, refusing to take part in the plague. I find he is peculiarly different from most nargles. And he listens when I talk. Or I think he does. Although, it is possible I am projecting my need for company onto him. Loneliness has been known to make people go mad sometimes.” Luna conveyed this information in the same way she did everything, dreamily and without a hint of irony, which somehow made it sound worse.

“Nargles can be friends, I guess,” Harry said as the grasp of guilt over her loneliness closed in around his heart. “I don’t think you’re going mad.”

“Oh, I don’t either.” Luna smiled serenely. “No more than I usually am anyways. And I must say you look smart. For a blonde.”

The sudden change in topic threw Harry off balance. “And so do you,” he quickly replied, but then made a face, realizing how dumb he sounded. “I-I mean you always did. Have blonde hair, that is. As long as I’ve known you. And it looks good. By the way did I mention your dress looks brilliant?”

Luna stifled a soft giggle behind her free hand. “Louis, you remind me of another wizard I know. He was always awkwardly stumbling through his words around me too. I found it very cute.”

“Heh. Well, he sounds really nice. Maybe I'll meet him someday.”

Harry and Luna began to inch precariously closer together, before George stopped near them and cleared his throat ostentatiously. “About time for the wedding to start, Lou. Quit slacking off.” He winked at Harry then turned to Luna. “Don’t forget our dance later.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Luna replied.

Harry let Luna’s hand drop and stood. “He’s right. I need to get back. But I’ll look for you at the reception.” Then he jerked his head to the right when a sudden pressure was felt on his shoulder. The nargle- or Barnaby- was resting there again. Harry smirked. “Guess he’s coming with me. _My nargle friend_.”

“Take care of him. He sometimes needs looking after,” Luna said, and as Harry walked away he was left wondering if she’d been talking to him or Barnaby.


	6. Purple and Pink

One by one, stars dotted the sky as the waning light of day transitioned into evening. Luna counted each one while anxiously waiting for her chance to be with Harry again. The last time they’d spoken was just before the wedding. She had been able to see him, though. Well, the back of his head to be more precise. Which she’d spent most of the ceremony staring at from her position five rows behind the Weasleys. Sadly, Harry had held back after the wedding to help with the transformation taking place inside the tent. Rows of chairs were being shuffled around tables, and food brought in. As one of the guests, Luna had been ushered outside, and with her father a few feet away currently making conversation about what else …. the _Quibbler_ , she had taken to stargazing to pass the time.

_55, 56, 57, 58_

“Luna!” someone called out.

It was enough to make her lose count. But she wasn’t upset. Too many stars were appearing now for her to keep track of, and so Luna swept her gaze away from the twinkling in the darkening sky, to focus on the familiar voice. “Oh, hello,” she greeted the approaching friend. “I painted your portrait on my wall this summer, but seeing you in person is much better.”

“Er, that’s very sweet of you,” Hermione replied, embracing Luna ever-so gently. Then holding her at arm's length, she admired her dress with an approving smile. “Did you use a charm to get all those sunflowers on there?”

“Actually I used muggle techniques. I created a paste with my paints to keep the flowers glued to my dress. Some were stubborn though and refused to stay. I had to sew those ones into the fabric. I don’t expect the flowers will last for more than a day or two. When they start wilting, I’ll let Barnaby have the petals for a snack. He’ll like that.”

One of Hermione’s eyebrows quirked upward. “Barnaby?”

“Oh, that’s right. You haven’t met. He’s a nargle who lives in my house.”

Hermione nodded, albeit with a slightly skeptical expression on her face. “Oh, yes. Harry’s mentioned them before. They’re the reason he wears …” She made a circular motion around her neck and then pointed to the same area on Luna. “Like what you have there, buried under those sunflowers.”

“A butterbeer cork necklace.”

“Yes, that,” Hermione said, a beat of silence following before she asked, “Do all nargles have names like pets?”

“Only Barnaby. I’d say he’s my pet, but I don’t think he’d agree with that phrasing. Maybe more like a friend.”

A stretch of quiet passed between them as Hermione shifted her weight from foot to foot. Luna felt at ease, but she could sense Hermione was struggling to find something to say. The two of them had always edged somewhere between friends and opponents. Hermione was extremely logical, and before Harry had become witness to the same magical creatures as Luna, it was common for Hermione to contradict her whenever one was mentioned. A change in topic was probably needed and Luna took it upon herself to divert their conversation into an agreeable subject. “How are you and Ron?” Hermione had never come right out and spoken about their relationship, but it was an open secret with everyone that she was dating Ron. Hopefully they were still together.

“Oh, surprisingly good,” Hermione answered, a smile brightening her face as she leaned in and began to detail all the ways Ron had endeared himself to her over the summer. But while her friend spoke, Luna unexpectedly felt a pang of sadness at the awareness of all that she’d missed since leaving Hogwarts. It must have shown in her expression, because Hermione left a story about a love note mid-sentence to transition into an apology. “I’m sorry. I’m being insensitive. Talking about my relationship when-”

“No, I’m quite alright,” Luna interrupted. “A little sad, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear about your happiness.”

At that moment, the source of Hermione’s happiness walked towards them looking exactly the opposite of that emotion. “Bloody hell, why is Victor Krum here? Who invited him?” Ron groused as he took Hermione’s hand. A second later he acknowledged Luna with a quick, “Oh hey, Luna,” while his eyes remained fixated on something behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Krum standing with a young woman.

“Fleur kept in contact with him after the Triwizard Tournament. She thought it would be nice to invite him to the reception,” Hermione replied, and then added, “Try not to act so irritable.”

“You knew he was coming and didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to be upset. And look, he’s brought a date. Hardly reason for you to be jealous.”

Ron finally tore his eyes off Krum to stare at Hermione. “I’m not jealous.”

“Sure, Ronald. If you say so.” Hermione sighed in such a way that told Luna she didn’t actually believe her boyfriend. Ron opened his mouth to respond- most likely with something that would continue their tepid argument- but Hermione cut him off. “They must be finished organizing for the reception if you’re out here.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ron said as if suddenly remembering what he’d been doing before spotting Krum. “Came out here to get you. Har-uhhh-Lou’s got us a table.” Hermione rolled her eyes at the name fumble, but her subsequent giggle offset any frustration she might’ve had with Ron. “Obviously you’re invited too,” he continued, eyeing Luna. “Seems my cousin took a liking to you earlier.” He smirked and Hermione nudged him in the side with her elbow.

After quickly informing her father she would be sitting with friends, Luna followed Ron and Hermione as they entered the tent, walked past an empty dancefloor, and sat down at a table Harry and Ginny were occupying. When he saw her, Harry jerked from his seat and pulled out the chair next to his. “Hey,” he said. “I-I saved you a seat.” His smile was shy, but also contagious, and there was something familiar in its lopsidedness that revealed the real Harry beneath the facade. It made Luna wonder if kissing Louis would be similar to kissing Harry. Different lips, but with the same intention behind them.

“It’s nice to see you again, Louis,” she replied, sitting down. Harry pushed her chair forward, before returning to his own seat. Their fingers brushed briefly under the table and they shared another smile.

“Did you, uh enjoy the wedding?” Harry asked, attempting to make conversation, straddling that line between being Harry and being Louis.

“I did, but mostly I stared at the back of your head.”

Ron snorted into his drink and Ginny sent him a warning glance. Their reactions indicated that perhaps it was odd to stare at the back of a stranger's head. Luna didn’t actually know Louis, but she was also among friends who knew he was Harry. It was all very difficult knowing how to act in their odd situation.

“Well, you did tell me I looked smart for a blonde,” Harry offered, trying to save her from the awkwardness she’d unintentionally evoked. “We fair-hairs have to stick together.” A rumbling of chuckles passed between the group and Luna sent Harry a grateful smile.

“Don’t bet on it mate, cuz then you’d have Malfoy as a friend,” Ron countered, letting out a single hard laugh.

“Ah, guess I didn’t think of that.” Harry made a face and then focused on his table napkin, pinching it in between his fingers.

“Luna told me she painted my portrait on her wall,” Hermione stated, trying to revive the stalled conversation.

“Oh not only you, Hermione, but everyone at this table. And Neville,” Luna explained and then looked at Harry. “Well, not you. I don’t know you.” Everyone laughed and Luna wondered if her face was showing the blush she felt glowing on her cheeks. “That is, I painted Harry Potter alongside all of my friends. I’d actually just finished painting you, Ron, when your owl came with the wedding invitation. To be honest, I was hoping it was Hedwig when my father told me there was an owl at our window that day.” Her attention drifted back to Harry. “Remember when she used to eat worms out of my hand up in the owlery. I always did enjoy that, but it was quite messy.” She paused after noticing all three of her friends were wearing variations of sad expressions. Frowning, Luna lowered her voice and spoke to Harry. “I’m not sure what I said wrong, but I do seem to be very awful at pretending you’re not actually you.”

Harry looked pained for a moment. “It’s not that …” He exhaled slowly, his eyes searching beyond her head. She followed his gaze and saw that others were now dancing, including Bill and Fleur. The band was playing a soft tune that reminded Luna of a lullaby. When Harry said her name moments later, she turned back to face him. “Would you like to dance?” he asked.

“Yes, that would be nice,” she replied without hesitation. Anything to take her away from whatever misstep she’d made that had soured everyone’s mood.

“It’s not your fault,” Harry told her once his arms were around her waist and she’d locked hers around his neck. They began swaying in time with the music and Luna stared at him quizzically.

“What’s not my fault?”

“Back there. With them. It’s just …” He let his unfinished sentence drift in the air between them.

“Harry,” Luna whispered. “You’ve always been able to tell me what’s troubling you. I don’t care that you now have blonde hair and hazel eyes. You’re still you underneath that handsome crooked nose.”

Contrasting with the glum mood that had settled over them, a corner of Harry’s mouth pulled upward. “I forgot you liked crooked noses, _devil may care_ and all.”

The image of Harry after she’d found him on the Hogwarts Express with a broken nose, resurfaced in Luna’s mind. That was the night he told her she was his friend and the memory produced a smile that mirrored Harry’s. Still, she wanted to understand what everyone was tiptoeing around, and asked, “That is true. They are handsome. But please, tell me what’s going on.” She tightened her grip around his neck.

It took him a few more seconds, but Harry finally admitted the horrible news. “Hedwig died last week.” He shook his head wearily.

Despite her insistence on wanting to know the truth, Luna was not prepared for Harry's answer. Over the summer, she’d enacted many scenarios in her head of all sorts of bad news concerning Harry. But this … Hedwig? The owl's death struck a piece of her heart she hadn’t yet steeled against sorrow. “Oh, Harry, how awful. I’m so sorry. I wish I would’ve been there for you when it happened.”

“No. You don’t.” Harry’s tone was dark and his sudden shift from sadness into anger startled Luna.

“What do you mean? What happened?”

“She died trying to protect me. From Death Eaters. From-”

“You Know Who?”

Harry gave a quick nod and Luna gasped. Rather than try to keep up appearances, she leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder to offer comfort, her long hair trailing down his arm. Harry’s hold tightened around her.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she sighed into his neck. But then a thought from earlier leaped to the forefront of her mind. “George,” Luna breathed. “His ear. Was he also hurt by those same Death Eaters? By _him_?”

“Not him, but, yes, Death Eaters,” he answered. “Mad Eye is gone too.”

Luna let a few tears fall onto his suit jacket, before lifting her head. The boy she stared at was different, but the pain she saw etched on his face and the shade of sadness of his aura belonged solely to Harry Potter. The ache inside her chest shifted like red paint slowly turning purple. The red was still present, but now it had mixed with a shade of blue, the two becoming one. And it was that purple urging Luna’s mouth closer to Harry’s. A form of comfort not only for him, but herself as well. So much pain. She wanted to dull it. And had Barnaby not landed on Harry’s shoulder at that very moment, Luna wasn’t sure she would’ve been able to push back against that need. Speaking the nargle’s name rather breathlessly, her back straightened and she edged away from Harry. “And just where have you been?” Luna asked her green friend.

“Most likely eating these.” Gathering a handful of petals from his shoulder, Harry offered them to Barnaby, but his black eyes didn’t so much as glance at the collection of yellow. “Seems he’s had his fill,” Harry commented and let the petals fluttered to the dancefloor where there was already a fair amount surrounding their shoes.

And then the soft music ended, the band quickly transitioning into a livelier song after a smattering of claps from around the room. Luna looked away from Barnaby to Harry. The pull between them had drifted away like the petals at their feet. But maybe it was for the best. Kissing Louis Weasley was bound to get her some unwanted attention. Possibly even her father’s, who was now sitting at the same table as Ron and Hermione. Ginny was gone. Luna imagined she must have excused herself to escape mentions of the _Quibbler_. “I should probably go rescue our friends from my father,” Luna said.

“Yeah, but who’s going to rescue me?” Harry teased.  

“I will, silly,” she replied. “Never underestimate my ability to divert my father’s attention. I’ve been doing it for most of my life.”

“I never underestimate you in anything.” He’d returned to wearing that familiar lopsided grin, and Luna’s heart began aching for a different reason. Another color added to the purple and she imagined it as pink.

* * *

 

Luna’s attempt at distraction meant she was once again on the dancefloor, this time with her father, the two of them moving to the music in such a way that a few wedding guests were laughing and pointing their fingers.

“Where d’you suppose they learned those moves,” Ron asked with a chuckle. Despite the humor in his question, it didn’t come across as negative. Even so, Hermione glowered. “What?” he asked, his voice defensive. “It’s good stuff. I’d watch them do that all day. Waving their hands about.” He began subtly imitating their movements. “Come on, Hermione, dance with me.” She jabbed him with her elbow and he groaned. “I’ll take that as a no,” Ron said, rubbing the spot of impact.

For the next half hour, the conversation around the table fluctuated as different guests came by and greeted them. One notable visit came in the form of Viktor Krum, an interaction Ron clearly wasn’t pleased with by the way he glared at the Bulgarian. Sensing he might provoke a confrontation, Hermione finally took Ron up on his offer to dance, leaving Harry alone with her ex. Thankfully, Krum spoke little after that, and eventually he brought his date out onto the dance floor, perhaps in an attempt to show up Ron. But really, no one could take the spotlight off of the Lovegoods, who attracted the most attention as they moved to their own tune.

Harry’s eyes followed Luna. Unlike when they’d danced earlier, the hue around her appeared happy. Nothing was troubling her. Not like when he related the bad news about Hedwig. The negativity surrounding him tended to latch onto her, because of her empathetic nature.

And yet, she was willing to endure it, because she loved him.

Harry sighed wistfully, thinking back to the way Luna’s mouth had edged nearer to his. They’d almost kissed. “But then you had to step in,” Harry grumbled, lifting the golden fabric of the tablecloth to stare down at the nargle near his shoe. That was where Luna had quickly placed Barnaby. Friend or no, Xenophilius detested nargles, and to keep him safe, Luna had whispered, _Stay_ as she gave Barnaby a gentle nudge under the table. Amazingly, he’d stayed put, only occasionally climbing Harry’s leg as a means of reminding him of his existence. “But I suppose you shouldn't go kissing ex-girlfriends,” Harry mused, continuing his one-sided conversation. “Especially when they’re only doing it to cheer you up.” Barnaby’s reply was sudden and painful; a bite on Harry’s ankle. “Ow, what was that for?” he complained. “Come here you little muppet.” But his attempt to capture Barnaby failed when he flew between the legs of the chair furthest from Harry’s. “Oh so that’s how it’s going to be? Some _nargle friend_ you are.”

“Have you dropped something, Louis?” The voice of Xenophilius came from above. Surprised, Harry hit the back of his head on the underside of the table and after repressing a swear word, he sat upright again.

“No, I was uh…”

“Tying your shoe?” Luna offered, returning to her seat next to his.

“Yeah. That. I was doing that. All the dancing loosened my laces.”

“Oh, perhaps I should check my shoes too. Luna and I did manage to do quite a bit of dancing ourselves through four songs.” Xenophilius stared down at his shoes and Luna leaned in closer to Harry.

“Is it Barnaby?”

“Yeah, he’s being a little git.” Lifting his ankle, Harry showed Luna the tiny wound that was now dotting his white sock with red.

A crease appeared between Luna’s eyebrows. “Oh my. What did you say to him?”

“What? I’ve been bitten by nargles before. Funny enough they do that without conversation.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Luna said. “Barnaby doesn’t seem to react normally. He’s a bit more sentient.” She then spit on Harry ankle and rubbed her index finger over the small injury. It was all very odd and a little gross, but Harry knew better than to question the things Luna did. “Perhaps, we should get him outside,” she suggested, lowering his pant leg. Her blue-grey eyes shifted to her father, who was still staring at his shoes.

“Another distraction?” Harry asked, reading her mind.

She smiled at him, then turned to her father and pointed out some acquaintance of theirs Harry didn’t recognize. “I don’t think you were ever able to convince him to become a subscriber. It’s a shame really. He has such influence over the Ministry.”

Luna igniting a challenge in her father’s heart, brought him to his feet. “Well, perhaps he needs a little more persuasion.” He winked at his daughter before excusing himself with a promise to return victorious.

“He only cleans offices at the Ministry, but Daddy’s convinced it’s only a cover and that he’s actually an Auror of the highest caliber,” Luna explained once her father was out of earshot.

“And what do you think?” Harry asked.

Luna shrugged. “I always try to believe him until he’s proven wrong. Honestly though, I’m quite certain Mr. Hill is simply a custodian. But let’s not waste time,” she said, lifting the tablecloth and whispering to Barnaby, “Do you want to get away from here?”

The nargle answered by flying into Luna’s lap and nestling himself between some sunflowers. Harry managed to shoot him a disgruntled look just before Luna stood, cradling Barnaby in her hands. Once outside, the nargle was set free and Harry asked, “Do you think he’ll come back before the night is over?”

Luna stared off in the direction her friend had flown. “I suppose I would be happy if he did, but if Barnaby chooses to start a new life here, then that is his choice.”

Harry smiled as he admired Luna’s profile. Her genuine love and respect for magical creatures- even the odd and strange ones- coupled with the way the light from the full moon lit up her face, rekindled that pull from the dancefloor. The need to kiss Luna ached inside his chest and without much thought, Harry brought his hands up to cradle either side of her face.

“What is it?” she asked. Her voice was a whisper of worry that Harry quickly silenced when he pressed his lips against hers.


	7. Misery and Relief

_I am being reckless_.

This thought bounced around inside Luna’s head, never quite sticking in place long enough for her to grasp the warning’s urgency. The only thing she wanted to focus on seemed to be Harry and the pleasant way his mouth moved against hers over and over. Little kisses. Deep kisses. His hands in her hair, the sunflower crown now lay ruined on the ground where they both stood concealed by the chicken coop. But when his lips trailed slowly down her neck, Luna’s breath hitched and Harry paused.

“What is it?” he asked, sounding dazed before pulling away.

Shrouded in darkness, Luna’s eyes took a few moments to adjust, and when Harry finally came into focus, she saw the face of a stranger. The image was a stark reminder of why he had to hide who he was in the first place, and how his path wasn’t one she could follow him down. “I don’t think this is wise. We’re being reckless,” Luna whispered, her bouncing thought having finally settled into her consciousness. The skin between Harry’s eyebrows wrinkled, and he searched her face. A few feet away, muffled music from inside the tent came to an end, followed by a round of applause reminiscent of falling raindrops. “I can see that you’re trying to think of a way to convince me I’m wrong,” she continued, before he had a chance to gather his own bouncing thoughts. “And I would most likely agree with whatever you came up with, because right now I am very weak. But we shouldn’t do this anymore, Harry.” Luna had managed to convey all this in a single breath, remaining calm until she spoke his name. At that moment, her emotions pushed through, raising the pitch of her voice just enough for him to notice.

Harry retreated from her and she stumbled forward, no longer feeling the side of the coop pressing into her back. Luna was glad when he turned away; that familiar ache inside her chest was swelling and she needed to quell it to keep from crumbling. Her role in their relationship had always been the voice of calm, unbreakable in the face of his pain. Luna wouldn’t falter. Not now. Not when he needed her the most.

Attempting to distract herself from dwelling too deeply over the sadness inside, Luna glanced down at her dress and its many missing sunflower petals. All that hard work now destroyed in a moment of impulsiveness she’d encouraged by asking Harry to take her somewhere secluded once their first kiss ended. And yet, after reflecting on this regrettable destruction, Luna determined she wouldn’t hesitate to repeat her request. Despite a ruined dress and fractured heart, at least she’d been given this second opportunity to be with him again, kiss him, and say goodbye. Whoever his face belonged to was inconsequential, because their connection was strong enough for Luna to feel the real person underneath.

But it couldn’t continue.

“I’m sorry,” Harry finally said, still facing away from her.

Luna’s eyes had adapted enough to see faint colors of melancholy surrounding Harry, and her frown deepened. “I’m not,” she replied, using a consoling tone, pulling herself together enough to support him with her calm. Harry glanced back as Luna placed a hand on his shoulder; tenderly she moved it down his arm until their hands clasped. “But if it had gone on…”

“I know,” Harry sighed, and after a pause, admitted, “Hermione even warned me not to kiss you, but … I can’t just turn this thing off.” He rubbed his chest. “I still love you. A summer apart hasn’t made me forget that.”

Eyeing his hand still moving over his heart, Luna asked, “Do you sometimes get aches in your chest when you think of me?”

Harry’s fingers stilled and he glanced down as if unaware of his hand placement. “Yes,” he finally answered, his gaze finding hers again. “And it’s bloody awful.”

“I get those too.” Luna massaged the hollow ache in her own chest. “Right now, actually. But I suppose broken hearts are not meant to be pleasant. And sadly, I do think our snogging just now will cause me more pain in the upcoming days as it’s likely to remind me of what I’m missing when you’re gone. But overall, I do think it will have a positive benefit. Kissing you tonight won’t be a reminder of what I’ve lost, but of what I’m fighting for. It will make me stronger. Make you stronger.” Harry chuckled, causing Luna to raise her brows. “That was meant to encourage you. Did I say something funny?”

“No. It’s uh ... me. Just me. I was just imagining a world where snogging you always made me stronger. Like a magical transfer of power.”

Luna smiled. “That would be a pleasant way of supporting you. But in this less agreeable version of life we live in where snogging isn’t the only answer, I’ll have to stick with writing encouraging articles about you in the _Quibbler_. It’s all I can really do to support the cause.”

“Yeah, thanks for those. The _Quibbler_ has been helping me loads since I left Hogwarts.”

“How strange. You never much cared for reading it before,” Luna mentioned.

Harry shrugged. “Oh, I dunno, I still think some of your father’s ideas are a little out there, but your stuff is always brilliant. Anyhow, it makes me feel closer to you. I imagine your voice when I read. Like you’re there talking to me.” Harry hesitated and then grimaced. “That sounds dumb, doesn’t it?”

“No,” Luna was quick to reply. “I do the same with all your old notes. And even the one you stuck inside the wedding invitation. Over and over, I took it out just so I could imagine your voice. That means if you think you’re dumb, then I must be too.”

“I’d never think that. You’re the most insightful person I know.” Harry brought a hand up to the side of her face, and Luna blinked rapidly to hold back the tears suddenly filling her eyes.

“Well, I’ll have to make sure my next article is especially good, since I know you’ll be reading it,” she said, right before her attempts to keep from crying failed spectacularly. Whirling around, Luna’s eyes overflowed, while she tried in vain to stifle her sobs with a hand over her mouth.

“You don’t have to hide from me, Luna. It’s okay to let me see you cry.” Harry rested his hand on the small of Luna’s back as he came to stand next to her. “You don’t always have to be strong for me.”

“Y-yes, I do,” she managed to squeak out, after choking back another sob.

“You think your feelings don’t matter, but they do.”

“No. It’s not that. Only ... nothing that happens to me, compares with what you’re going through.”

“That’s not true.” Harry’s other hand snaked around her middle, so that he and Luna were staring eye to eye. “I see you taking on this role time and again. Never letting on how you really feel to the benefit of others. But what benefit is it to you? It can’t be good keeping all those emotions bottled up inside. Just let them out. You’re always so honest about everything. Why can’t you be about this?”

An incredible urge overcame Luna then, like a blibbering humdinger bursting through the ache inside her heart, making it impossible to hold onto the last shred of self-control she possessed. Already in Harry’s arms, Luna folded into him, tears wetting his suit jacket as her guard finally came crumbling down. But it wasn’t only her, because she was fairly certain Harry was echoing her sadness. A few times his chest heaved and shuddered beneath her, as one person’s anguish layered over another’s. Together they painted an awful picture of misery. But also one of relief. She was letting go of all those times a brave face had been needed, and acknowledging her own grief was ignored to keep those around her from falling apart. Now it was Luna’s turn to spill those emotions, releasing them in a deluge that Harry allowed her to experience with him. It was horrible and yet somehow cathartic. And when her tears abated enough to become soft whimpers, Luna felt something she hadn’t in a long while. At ease. Not completely without worry, but filled with a revelation that she could be herself, and not stress over always bearing the burden of concealed emotions. The ache persisted, but had subsided enough that she could feel hope again.

After a while of letting this ease imbue her, Luna lifted her head away from Harry’s chest, and held his gaze for a long moment before he relinquished his hold. “We should get back to the wedding. The others might come looking for us,” Harry stated, “Not that I want to, but you know…”

Luna nodded, picturing her father anxiously searching for his missing daughter. How long had they been out here? Time always slowed when she was with Harry. “You’re right. And I did promise one of the Weasley twins a dance. Although, it will be difficult figuring out which one it was.”

Harry laughed. A sound that seemed almost unnatural after all their crying. “I doubt it matters. Both’ll likely take you up on that offer.”

Walking back towards the tent, their bodies drifted apart. They were playing their roles again. Luna and Louis, two wedding guests not all that familiar with each other, and certainly not the couple who had just been madly snogging in the dark moments before. It was a sad thought, but Luna shook it off after spying her father approaching them. He’d been standing near the tent’s entrance, appearing as if he were searching for something. Most likely, her. “Oh hello, Daddy,” she greeted cavalierly as if everything were fine. But the frown he wore conveyed that it wasn’t. At least for him.

“Where have you been? I was sick with worry.” He stopped short a few inches away from them, his bright emotional colors turning a shade darker. “Have you been crying?” Without waiting for an answer, his eyes narrowed at Harry. But the accusation he was about to spout, died as surprise took over his expression. “Oh, I wasn’t aware you’d be here. Do you think it’s safe?”

This odd question caused Luna to jerk her head and stare at the boy beside her. Where Louis once was, now stood Harry Potter. Of course, she already knew his true identity, but now everyone else would too. “Harry, your polyjuice potion, it’s worn off,” she said, and quickly resolved to hide him away before word spread that the infamous _Boy who Lived_ was here. Luna’s eyes darted around, until her searching gaze fell on the Burrow. A cobbled together plan formed inside her mind, one that paired with a desperate hope the Weasley’s home was unlocked. Her father wouldn’t be happy when she dashed away with Harry, but Luna didn’t have time to think about him at the moment.

And yet, just as her hand grasped Harry’s, a flash of silver light flew overhead, distracting all three of them. Slowly it fell through the tent and although Luna couldn’t see the patronus she assumed it was, the warning it spoke was loud and clear for all to hear.

_“The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”_


	8. Wishes

Multiple things happened in quick succession. A patronus with Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice shouted a warning. Harry pulled from Luna’s grasp, drew his wand, and moved to stand in front of her. A loud scream grew into a staccato-like chorus as people began pouring from the tent, falling over each other in the process. A few disapparated after realizing the barrier protecting the Burrow had fallen. And then cloaked and masked figures- similar to those that haunted Harry’s nightmares- began appearing on all sides. “Protego!” Harry shouted at one of them, and the curse the Death Eater cast in their direction, rebounded. Struck motionless by shock, Luna’s father was of no help, a fact Harry only became aware of when he was forced to dart in front of him to deflect a spell. “What are you doing?” Harry yelled, all polite pretense gone. Xenophilius looked at him, but didn’t seem to understand.

“Daddy, please,” Luna tugged at his hand, managing to keep her tone even and calm, despite the chaos surrounding them. It was enough to stir her father from whatever panic was keeping him prisoner ... but just barely.

“Disapparate! Get Luna to safety!” Harry urged, frustrated that Xenophilius wasn’t putting in any effort to protect his daughter. Another Death Eater came at them; Harry shouted a counter spell, and another. With Luna taking on the role of her father’s caretaker, Harry was left to fend off the swarm of masked men and women, feeling torn between his need to find Ron and Hermione, and his desire to protect Luna.

Luckily the decision was made for him a moment later when his friends emerged from the tent. Hermione caught Harry’s gaze at once and came rushing towards him. “We have to disapparate. Now!” she shouted over the commotion and took his hand. Behind her, Ron cast a spell and then moved to place his hand with theirs, but Harry withdrew his.

“What’re you up to?” Ron asked. “We’ve gotta get outta here, mate.”

“Not without Luna and her dad.” It occurred to Harry that leaving Luna in this uncertainty with a father who appeared to be suffering from some unknown ailmentmight not be the best idea. And he wasn’t going to argue about it either, making sure his resolve showed clearly in his expression.

Hermione hesitated and then nodded, before moving to grasp Luna’s hand. “Hold onto your father tightly,” she ordered. Luna did as she was told and Harry went to add his own hand once more, but paused.

“Let me choose the destination.”

Hermione cast him a skeptical eye, but quickly relented. “Fine, Harry, just hurry.”

Harry focused on a location- one that was snow covered, because his last visit there had been during Christmas. Then, placing his hand with the others, they disapparated. Instantly all sight and sound ceased as darkness pressed in upon them, pulling their small group away from the Burrow and hopefully to the place Harry was aiming for.

“Where are we?” Hermione panted, once they’d finally come out the other end.

Harry swept his gaze from right to left and sighed. He’d done it. Gotten them there safely, not a single injury.

“Home,” Xenophilius answered, seeming to finally have broken from his catatonic-like state. The shock of disapparating must’ve done it, but this mental clarity was soon followed by an overwhelming awareness of what they’d just been through. “Oh Luna,” he moaned miserably. “You could have died.”

“But I’m quite alright, Daddy,” came his daughter’s comforting reply, though Harry noticed she wasn’t fully in control of her legs. After witnessing them wobble a few times he intervened and pulled Luna against him. It was a gesture Xenophilius observed with fixed stare. “Harry fought off those Death Eaters for us,” Luna continued, leaning into him. “And we’ll be quite safe here as soon as we put up some protective enchantments.”

“Oh, yes, right!” Hermione shouted, startling everyone. “I’ll get to that.” Away she ran, with Ron following closely behind, muttering about needing to help her.

Harry watched them go, wondering if perhaps Ron was only leaving to keep an eye on Hermione, as it was unlikely she needed any help with spells. It was a compulsion Harry understood, considering the scene they’d just escaped from. The thought of leaving Luna back at the Burrow made him sick, and instinctively he tightened his hold on her.

“Thank you,” Luna commented and Harry glanced down at her.

“Yeah?”

“For protecting us. I only wish I could’ve done something to help. It didn’t even occur to me that I should bring my own wand. What use would it have been to an underage witch?”

“Well, I think whatever the Ministry says from now on is meaningless,” Harry replied. “Doesn’t matter if you’re not 17 till next February. You’ll need to start carrying around your wand at all times and be ready to use your DA training at a moment’s notice.”

Luna’s father sighed in such a way that Harry knew it was more than just a simple release of breath. “What about the trace charm? If the Ministry has truly fallen, then it would be an easy way for them to find my Luna.”

“A trace charm is the least Luna should worry about if Voldemort and his Death Eaters are after her. She has to be able to fight back.”

Xenophilius cringed at Harry’s use of the Dark Lord’s name, but his resolve was steadfast. “Seems they wouldn’t come after her at all if she keeps her head down and stays out of trouble.”

Harry saw this for exactly what it was- a thinly veiled attack on his relationship with Luna. Maybe now that the situation had deteriorated enough, the _Quibbler_ wouldn’t be so supportive of Harry Potter anymore. “Trouble? Is that what I am?” Harry scoffed. “I hope you know I saved your life back there while you couldn’t even-”

“It’s been a long day full of surprising twists for all of us, hasn’t it?” Luna said, suddenly inserting herself into the fray. “Perhaps we should go inside and clean up. Then we can decide what to do from there. I think we’ll all look at this more clearly once we’ve calmed down.”

The way Luna could so easily diffuse a tense situation was a quality Harry would always admire, and for her sake, he let his heated exchange with her father end. “You’re right. Let’s figure this out after we’ve had time to process it.”

The hard determination in Xenophilius expression deflated at once, making him appear old and fragile. “I’m sorry, Luna. I-I should’ve protected you. I-I don’t know why I didn’t. It all happened so fast,” he lamented with tears welling in his eyes.

Luna left Harry’s embrace, and after softly shushing her father, she patted his hand. “Now’s not the time for such thoughts, Daddy. Let’s get you inside.” Xenophilius nodded solemnly, his cheeks now wet with tears.

Harry watched their exchange as guilt slowly wormed its way through his heart. He shouldn’t have argued with Xenophilius; the man’s mental state was clearly out of balance. The few times they’d been around each other, Harry had labeled his odd behavior as harmless. But now it seemed there was more to the story. And when they all began walking towards the house, Harry made sure to stay a step behind, giving Luna the space she needed to tend to her father.

* * *

 

“He gets this way sometimes. I haven’t seen it this bad in a few years though. I don’t really know what to call it, but I’ve always assumed it was some form of depression, or possibly PTSD from the wizarding war or even my mum's death. It was quite violent you know. Her death, I mean. But I suppose the war was too.”

Luna was sitting on the floor in front of her wall paintings. After putting her father to bed, she’d brought Harry, Ron, and Hermione up to her room to see their portraits. But now only Harry remained- the other two having gone downstairs to be alone- and naturally their conversation had drifted to Harry’s argument with her father.

“I don’t blame you for arguing with him.” Luna had been twisting her hair, staring at the ground, but now she looked over at Harry sitting beside her. “It’s human nature to want to fight back. But I rarely do when it comes to him, you see, because I learned it’s far easier to always agree with what he says or offer up a distraction. He needs that reassurance from me to keep from falling down one of his holes.”

“Sorry if I did that, you know, pushed him down one of those, uh, holes,” Harry said, his guilt over their fight still festering inside. “What does that mean exactly?”

“Oh, that’s just what I call them. Sadness holes. Because it’s difficult trying to pull him out. I’ve learned it’s much easier to keep him from them than trying to convince him to climb up my rope of hope once he’s already down there.”

The corner of Harry’s mouth twitched upward a bit at her _rope of hope_ line, despite the grim subject matter behind it. “Why haven’t you ever told me this before?”

A shadow passed over Luna’s eyes before she shifted her gaze back to the floor. “Oh, I suppose it would be for the same reason we already discussed back at the wedding.”

“You didn’t want to burden me.” Harry answered his own question.

Luna nodded, and looked back at him. “It’s something I’ll have to work on. Sharing my trials with others. It does seem that I’ve taken my approach with my father and extended it to every corner of my life. He taught me to always be honest, but his actions showed me that this wasn't always the case, so I learned to hide my sadness away. Which you’ve already stated is unhealthy.”

“I wish I could stick around so you’d have me to lean on. I’d be more than willing to listen to any of those sad stories you've held back. I wish we had more time,” Harry said, realizing too late that it wasn’t helpful to remind her that he’d be leaving tomorrow.

But the somber shades of emotion his blunder had provoked, lightened some when she replied, “There are a lot of wishes I make. Mostly that you stay safe. But sometimes I venture beyond that and make selfish wishes.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Oh, for a time when we might be together again, without a war looming in front of us. We’d be married, of course. But I don’t go much beyond that. It seems too presumptuous.”

“I don’t think it’s presumptuous. Actually, I’d say it doesn’t go far enough.” Harry stood, and offered Luna his hand. She placed hers in his, and once he’d pulled her into an embrace, they began dancing. “It’ll be a big wedding. I’d be crazy if I thought Mrs. Weasley would let me get out of it. Lots of food. Lots of dancing.” Luna giggled as Harry twirled her. “Nargles will be invited, since they’re our friends now, and they’ll feast on your sunflower dress, because I can’t see you wearing anything as dull as white. And then when it’s all over, we can honeymoon in Sweden and search for crumplty-horned-shortstacks”

“Harry, they are called crumple-horned-snorkacks,” Luna playfully chided with a soft laugh. “If we’re to be married you must get these names right.”

“You can teach me them all. And others too. We’ll open up a school for all the wizards and witches just like us and make them butterbeer cork necklaces. And you can paint as much as you like. Cover the whole damn building with images of sunflowers and our friends. All of whom will live nearby, and we’ll get together for parties and dancing.” Harry dipped her, a move that was far more clumsy than suave, but Luna merely laughed at his fumble. Which for him was the point of all this anyway. To make Luna happy.

“I must say, I do enjoy your wishes much more than my own. Such colorful details.” Luna's aura was radiating a joy so bright that Harry instigated a kiss. It was not the heavy snogging from before, but a soft and tender moment filled with hope for this imagined future they were both wishing for that Harry felt might not be so barmy after all.


	9. Confessions and Distractions

Someone was breathing nearby. A soft inhale and exhale, occasionally marked by short groans of distress. It took Luna only a moment to remember who this person was once she trudged through the early morning wakspurts and managed to open her eyes. There sleeping beside her was Harry. The blankets she’d initially laid on the floor for him, now a forgotten lump after he’d woken sometime during the night with a searing scar and a terrifying image burning inside his mind. It was enough of a scare that Harry had joined Luna in her bed. Now it was morning and as she strained to hear beyond Harry’s soft breathing, Luna felt a great sense of relief that no one else was awake. She was safe from her father stumbling into an awkward situation. Not that anything had happened between her and Harry beyond them falling asleep in each other's arms, but it still wasn’t something she wanted to attempt explaining away. Especially when tensions between Harry and her father were already running high.

But Luna wasn’t ready to leave Harry’s arms just yet. Acutely aware that she might never see him this way again- or perhaps at all after tonight- she took a moment to observe his resting face, and marvel at how peaceful he looked. Not like the young man who so often was forced into dangerous situations. Even his dreams were full of evil. Whatever had shocked him awake last night, had apparently run its course and he appeared calm. Luna didn’t have the heart to remove him from this peaceful state, and so she gingerly maneuvered herself from his hold. Where he would be off to once he did wake, and how far he had to travel and for how long, was a mystery to her. The least she could do was let him sleep.

Silently, Luna stretched her limbs and then walked over to Harry’s finished portrait. It was finally done. He was no longer a headless Harry, and as she brought up her fingers to touch the dried paint, another flash of color caught Luna’s eye. On the back of her hand was a painting mistake caused by Harry. He had just finished posing for his portrait when a little kiss with the paintbrush still in her hand had turned into a few dozen more, eventually marking Luna with the color of his hair. Staring at this dark brown brush stroke, she wasn’t quite sure it should be removed. The stain was like a souvenir. Good luck perhaps.

After a quick change of clothes, Luna went downstairs and began making breakfast, with Ron arriving not long afterward. His first serving of what he affectionately called _eggy bread_ , was quickly eaten followed by a request for more.

“Don’t be rude, Ronald,” Hermione scolded as she entered the room.

“What’ve I done?”

“Luna can’t use magic and here you are asking for seconds. Why aren’t you offering to help?”

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” Luna intervened. “I enjoy cooking the muggle way. And you both need to save your strength for when you leave.”

“Where’s Harry?” Hermione asked. Ignoring Luna, she pulled out her wand and used a charm to move the french toast from skillet to plate, before adding another piece of bread to the egg mixture.

“Still sleeping, but I suppose I should wake him soon. Wouldn’t want his food to be taken by a blurnbat. They love to sneak stuff away when you're not looking. Especially at breakfast.”

Hermione and Ron exchanged looks acknowledging that neither of them knew what she meant, but were past not believing her. “Tell you what, I’ll keep my eyes peeled for some of those uh, thingys while I enjoy another helping of your delicious eggy bread,” Ron said with wide grin.

Luna smiled back. “Don’t be silly, Ron. You know you can’t see them.”

“Oh, yeah,” he chuckled and then reached for some french toast, but Hermione used another charm to move it a few inches away.

“Don’t worry about this,” she said, turning back around and gently nudging Luna away from the stove. “You’ve done enough by letting us stay here. Why don’t you go wake Harry? Then when you get back we’ll all eat breakfast together as friends. Won’t we, Ron?” She shot him a look and he shrunk back into his seat, abandoning another attempt to sneak some food.

“Sure,” he replied, but then mumbled something about wishing _he_ were a blurnbat, so he could steal food.

And then quite unexpectedly, Hermione hugged Luna, her arms so tight, the other let out a gasp. “You don’t know how happy it made Harry to see you yesterday,” she whispered. “It’s awful your reunion was so horribly ruined. I can only imagine how badly you feel.”

An objection formed in Luna’s mind, but stalled on her tongue after she recalled Harry’s words from yesterday. Her pain _did_ matter. Hermione, Ron, and Harry might be facing an uncertain future filled with dangerous and arduous tasks that took them away from their loved ones, but that didn’t overrule how she felt. “Thank you,” Luna replied quietly. “I appreciate you saying that.”

Hermione held on a few seconds longer before releasing her. “Now go see Harry.”

Luna nodded and went to the spiral staircase; taking two steps at a time, she hurried up them, but stopped abruptly a floor away from her room. Hushed voices were echoing down to where she stood. The first Luna recognized as Harry’s, but it was too faint for her to understand, so she took three more steps just as a different voice- her father’s- began speaking.

“You must understand it is very difficult for me to see my Luna in danger. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to her. She’s all I have. You Harry, are a brave young man and we at the _Quibbler_ will always support your efforts, but I can’t have my Luna involved with what you do.”

“I don’t want to see Luna hurt either. It’s why I cut off communication with her after leaving Hogwarts. But I’m also not going to pretend she isn’t her own person. If Luna wants to fight, she’ll find a way. She always does. But this isn’t something I can tell you, Mr. Lovegood. She’ll have to be the one to do it herself when she’s ready.”

This felt an awful lot like an open invitation and Luna wondered if perhaps Harry felt her presence, their bond giving her away. At that moment it felt stronger than it had in months and she used this channel to him as a springboard into courage. Harry wished he could be there for her as she let down her walls. Well, he was here now.

Luna continued up the last few steps and entered her room. Harry was already looking her way when she came into view, but it took her father a moment to sense someone else was there. He appeared disheveled, but far from the defeated man she’d comforted the night before, and for this Luna was thankful. It meant he’d been able to climb out of his sadness hole. Perhaps with a clearer head he would be more accepting of what she had to say.

“Hello,” Luna greeted them, but then stayed quiet as the nervous urge to twist her hair into tangles took over.

“Is everything alright?” her father asked. His forehead creased and it reminded Luna of the look he so often watched her with. Overprotective, like she was fragile and needing of constant care. Calmly, Luna reached down through her connection with Harry and after a moment, felt her tenuous courage sprout like a flower that had simply needed a good watering to grow.

“No, it’s not alright, Daddy, because I overheard what you said to Harry, and I don’t agree.”

“You don’t?”

“No, because while I promise I have no plans to go off and put myself in danger, I do fully intend to keep fighting for Harry when that danger comes to me.” She then reached out and grasped her father’s hand. “I love you, Daddy, but I’m not Mummy. I’m not Pandora. And you must understand that trying to keep me from my purpose harms our relationship. I have to do what I feel is right for me. Just like I did when I gave Harry the cork necklace I made all those years ago with Mummy. I wouldn’t just give that to anyone. But she knew it was meant for Harry. That he was meant for me.” Luna graced Harry with loving smile and took his hand too. “And that I was meant to fight for him.”

Her father looked wearily from Luna to Harry, before his eyes sought out the old photograph she kept on her bedside table. Inside a frame decorated with painted flowers, Luna and her mother were hugging tightly, both of them radiating happiness. “You may not be her, but you resemble your mother not only in looks, but also in spirit.” He turned back to face her, his adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to gain control over the emotional turmoil within. “I loved her, but it wasn’t enough. She was careless.” A familiar look clouded his eyes. He was tumbling down into sad memories, and Luna battled against her sympathies, not wanting to fall into old patterns that would undermine what she was attempting to accomplish.

“I lost her too, Daddy. But we mustn't let her mistake form who we are now. Things will get worse before they get better. We can’t live in fear. And you can’t hide me away, simply because Mummy made a few bad choices.”

A thick silence blanketed the space between Luna and her father like a suffocating fume. She had never dared to be so open with him before. Had it been too much too soon? She could tell he wanted to say something. Shame, perhaps mixed with fear, spoke behind the sadness in his eyes, and when he finally sighed, Luna held her breath for what would come next. “You ask too much of me, Luna …” her father said at last. “I’m not sure I can accept that his fight,” he gestured to Harry, “is yours as well. But for your sake … I will try.”

* * *

 

“It was a start and that’s really what matters. That you opened up to him. Less emotions in that bottle of yours. He’ll come ‘round eventually.”

The last thing Luna felt like discussing as she walked through the garden with Harry was her father’s tepid response to her confession, but that seemed to be the topic of choice for him, because despite what he was about to embark on, his thoughts were only on distracting her. “Please, Harry. I’d rather not talk about my father with you right now. Not when you’re about to leave.”

“Ah, see there, now you’re opening up to me about how you feel when I talk about your father. More progress.”

Luna tried not to smile, but it broke through anyhow. “Your attempts at diversions don’t work as well as mine, because instead of distracting me from what is about to happen you’re simply annoying me.”

“In a sense that _is_ distracting you. Granted, I could’ve thought this through and tried something that didn’t paint me in such a bad light. But, the fact remains that you _are_ distracted at this moment in time.”

From a short distance away Hermione’s voice called out to them. “It’s nearly dark. We need to leave soon, Harry.”

He grimaced. “Now Hermione on the other hand. She’s not very good at distractions.”

Despite his joke eliciting a giggle from Luna, a deep despair knocked into her. Harry was leaving, and taking Hermione and Ron with him. She’d been anticipating it all day and yet it didn’t hurt any less than it had back at Hogwarts. “I’d like more of your annoying distractions now, please,” she teased, forcing a smile. Harry chuckled, but it sounded hollow. “Much better than having to say goodbye anyway.”

“It does seem like we keep having to do this,” he said after a pause where his eyes studied her face with a steady focus. Perhaps he was trying to memorize her features. She’d done the same with him that morning.

“Many goodbyes mean there were also many hellos,” Luna replied, offering an alternative to his pessimistic observation. “And I fully intend on saying hello to you again.”

“And maybe without a goodbye following it.” His smile was bittersweet as he leaned in for a kiss that ended much too soon for Luna’s liking. And she especially hadn’t been anticipating the swear word that Harry uttered after pulling away.

“What is it?” she asked.

He was leaning forward with his hand on the back of his neck. “I think I’ve been-I’ve been bit.” Harry removed his hand to show a tiny red dot staining his palm.

“Let me see.” Luna went around to inspect, pulling down the back of his shirt collar to reveal an injury poor Harry had received many times before. “It’s a nargle bite,” she stated and then spit onto it.

“Those buggers are always biting me,” Harry complained.

“It’s rather unfortunate that your necklace was left at the Burrow. It would’ve prevented this. But perhaps it was unwise of us to walk so closely to the sunflowers when you weren’t wearing any corks.” After rubbing her fingers into the saliva saturated bite, she came back around to see Harry frowning. “Does it hurt?”

“No, not much. It’s only … sorry I lost your mum’s necklace. I know it was important to you.”

“Harry, that wasn’t anything you could control. And I’m sure we’ll get it back eventually. Important things always have a way of turning up in the end. But for the time being ...” Luna removed her own corks and placed them around Harry’s neck. “Use these.” She tied the string just below his latest nargle bite not wanting to irritate it until her saliva finished working.

“You know this all happened before,” Harry said, tugging at his new accessory. “You giving me your corks. Only thing missing is Peeves interrupting our kiss.”

“Well, there’s always Hermione. She found us many time in the library.” Luna smiled as these memories flashed through her mind. Not so much for the parts where Hermione showed up, but for what took place in the moments before they were interrupted.

“Let’s see if we can beat her to it this time,” Harry suggested, before finding Luna’s lips again. Unlike their previous kiss, this one lasted the perfect amount of time and without a single interruption.

* * *

 

When Luna stirred from a dream in the middle of the night, she wasn’t expecting Harry to be there, but she looked anyway. And after finding the space next to her empty she let out a long sigh as her mind began moving down a twisty path of worry, wondering where Harry was, and if that place was safe. These thoughts weren’t helpful as they lead to an insomnia so terrible Luna was compelled to leave her bed and go to the window. With a soft groan, she lifted it and let the humid summer night breeze into her room.

Something about her dream was bothering her, but only tiny fragments remained. Images of Harry and nargle bites. Leaning out the window sill, Luna imagined that she were a nargle with the ability to fly away and find Harry. It was a silly wish, but one that made her giggle nonetheless. Better that than the disquiet she’d been consumed with ever since Harry left. Any distraction- even Harry’s annoying ones- would be nice, but they were hard to come by in a house that suddenly felt so empty. And not just because her friends were gone. With how reclusive her father was being, he may as well have left with them.

It was partially her fault, but she assumed being attacked by Death Eaters had something to do with it as well. Even if her father believed _He who must not be named_ had returned years ago, seeing his followers up close had made it much more real for him. She wasn’t sure how long it would take him to pull from this silent panic, but hoped it would happen before she left for Hogwarts.

As the night wore on, Luna kept her place at the window, staring off into the dark night, sometimes glancing down at the brown paint on the back of her hand, and other times at the portraits on her wall. It was a repetitive circle of loneliness, thinking of Harry, her father, and even her mother, with occasional flashbacks to that odd dream. She desperately wished for someone to talk it all over with.

And then just as she was about to shut the window and crawl back into bed, hoping sleep would find her again, a sudden breeze brought in a creature that wasn’t so unfamiliar to her. Luna blinked, and then gasped. “Barnaby,” she said to the nargle perched on the window sill. “Where have you just come from?” Naturally the nargle didn’t respond, but Luna imagined he did. “Well, you’ve missed a lot since you’ve been gone. There’s so much to tell you. And funny enough it ends with Harry being bit by a nargle. I bet you like hearing that, don’t you?” This question was enough to set Luna’s mind on a course of discovery. Her dream now made sense. “That was you. You bit him. I knew it.”

Having a conversation with Barnaby and imagining his replies probably went along the same loony lines as talking with her paintings. It wouldn’t place her among the sanest in many people’s eyes. But for now, his presence was a welcome comfort and in a way she was doing what Harry wanted. Letting others know how she felt. And not just about everyday occurrences, but those personal feelings that tended to get held back for people like her father and Harry. But not Barnaby.

For his part, her nargle friend stuck around and listened (or she liked to think so). Her wish to be a nargle may not have been granted, but talking with one seemed just about equal in her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will likely be back to write more stories in this universe. If you've enjoyed what I've written please let me know. Comments encourage me to write.
> 
> Thanks again to PullTogether for all the beta reading.


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